


Unforgiven: The Unholy Trinity Chronicles

by GuardianKile



Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, F/M, New Orleans, The South, Time Travel, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6490111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianKile/pseuds/GuardianKile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Southern Belle, Faith Rue'lle is being haunted by her nightmares of another time and place. These tormenting dreams find her in the year 1469, living as the Romanian Princess, Damiana Lior, whom has been condemned to a fate worse than death . But while awake Faith goes on with life filled with trials of love and loss with her best friend Mica and a newcomer that has came, not for friendship but... her life. Yet there is something about her that stops his primal instincts and makes him fight against all odds, including his creator to find the connection to him that she possesses</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, well this is an original work of mine that's 8 years in the making. I hope some people might enjoy it and if they do I will keep posting chapters.

Prologue: Beginning of the End

The massacres began in St. Louis... a bloody trickle of eviscerated bodies begin washing up on the dark banks of the Mississippi.

 

It is fast approaching midnight, a man is lurking in an alleyway across from the Lemp mansion. A clear night, no clouds to diminish the brightness of the stars. As he leans against the wall, taking a sip from his flask, he hears the tapping of heels on pavement. Peeking around the corner he spots a young woman walking to her truck. She is probably around eighteen or so he guesses from her attire, a pair of form fitting black pants that could easily be passed off as a second skin and stiletto boots. Her red shirt clings to the curves of her body as she crosses her arms tightly. The street lamps yellow glare reflects off the whitewashed bricks of the mansion casting shadows along the alleyway preventing him from being seen.

He beholds her, quietly amazed as her long ebony hair whips around her in the soft breeze, carrying with it a scent from the old world. As she reaches the intersection of the alley, she feels a prickling sensation down her spine, her nerves screaming to her that she is being watched. She turns.

Quietly he steps deeper into the protection of the shadows, catching a glimpse of her fiery green eyes; their color luminous and rare.

His primal instincts begin to take over, adrenaline pumps through his veins, every muscle in his body tighten. She walks faster now, a new sense of urgency awakened within her. Swiftly she jumps in her truck, slamming the door so hard behind her the whole cab rocks. As she locks the doors he stands idle. Not by choice, more like some unseen force has glued him to the spot, letting her slip through his grasp.

As she drives away from his refuge his bonds break, his body wired with malice.

Jumping on his crotch rocket, he slams his boot down on the gas and high tails it to where sinners love to play, Club Dantes.

 

The line outside the door is buzzing with energy, he nods to the bouncer and quickly slips inside. He glances around the crowded room full of lonely singles, most of whom are drunk. Music is blaring all around as bodies writhe to the beat, strobe lights dancing off their skin illuminating their features.

As he approaches the bar, a tipsy blond jutes into view. Her hair gleaming like gold in the club's lights, pent up anger surges through his veins, eating away at his patience.

 

“Two rounds of turkey," he shouts to the bartender.

 

“Here...,” he calls, sliding one towards the girl as he downs the brown liquid without a flinch. She turns on her stool, looking into his eyes and takes the shot, sipping on it. Her brow furrowing as the rancid alcohol sloshes in her mouth, burning a trail down the back of her throat.

After an hour, thanks to his good looks and a combination of shots and tequila sunrises, she becomes extremely relaxed and agrees to leave with him. He pushes her out of the building, steering her away from the crowded club as she tries to nibble on his neck. Turning her down a back alley a few blocks away, he leans her against the damp brick wall. In what seems like the moment where a kiss becomes the focus of their lives, he quickly strikes and slashes her side. She screams in agony and tries to run for the open road. He smiles... knowing that no one can hear the conflict as he moves to engage the fleeing girl.

 

Hooking the back of her shirt, he hurls her hard against the brick. The sound of her skull cracking like an egg reverberates through the alley, her vision becomes cloudy as she collapses hard on the ground, pushing the air out of her lungs .

The force of the impact sends a rain of brick dust down upon her, he maneuvers quickly now kneeling over her . Peering into his eyes, cold and inhuman, she knows this is the end.

Her mind starts to sear with white hot pain as it cannot fathom the slashing and tearing being inflicted upon her flesh.

“Stop....stop,” she gasps, begging to be released.

Her body begins to feel heavy, the cold hard ground on her back, dirt and gravel grinding its way into her skin. Breathing is difficult and ragged, seconds feels like eternity. All she wants is for the pain to end.

Abruptly, he wraps his hand around her throat, pinning her down, he reaches under his jacket, withdrawing a knife. He savagely drives it hard up under her rib cage. Sinking the obsidian blade deep within her chest till the last spark of life is only an echo of death.

 

Days go by and those green eyes never leave his thoughts. The craving to see them again is starting to get the better of him, so he decides to leave Missouri before the ache overcomes his better judgment. Picking one of his favorite spots on the map, he heads to New Orleans.

As he walks through the French quarter, dodging the drunks stumbling out of the bars on Bourbon street and the ladies of the night on every corner. He takes a turn away from the noise toward the cemeteries, feeling the wet cobblestones underfoot and the damp breeze clinging to his skin.

The relaxing scent of freshly fallen rain rapidly becomes clouded by the same aroma that caught his attention in St. Louis. He spots open French doors on the balcony of the nearest building, the night wind blowing softly, swaying the white satin curtains aside. He walks farther down the road, staring up at the apartment when he catches a glimpse of her... lying in bed, eyes closed, face soft and peaceful. Her raven hair sweeping around her like a black sea. He stares, the only urge in his body for once in his life is not to devour the girl, but to simply uncover the mystery that surrounds this dark beauty of the night.


	2. Chapter 1- The Sands of Time Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more chapters just to really get into it

Chapter 1: The Sands of Time Shift

 

She ran barefoot on the cold stone floor. Torches illuminated her path through the dark, damp castle. Her hair swept around her as she glanced over her shoulder every few seconds, hoping she had not been seen or worse, been followed. Her breathing became labored, rasping in her chest, she slowed her pace and began to make her way for the passage that would lead her to freedom. Her heart jumped at every sound, though it was either the wind blowing through the stone walls or the patter of her own feet on the moist floor.

 

Her eyes sought to find the light from the torches that became dimmer and dimmer behind her. She crept forward, tracing her fingers along the wall hoping to stumble upon a forgotten room she discovered earlier in her explorations. She came to the end of the wall, the stone now laid to rest in another direction, this was the passageway to the armory. Voices began to cry out from behind the door at the end of the hall, scuffling of boots sounded as the clank of metal against metal rang through the passage.

 

She reached down the front of her corset slowly and withdrew a small dagger as she stumbled back along the wall, away from the door. Panic seeped its way into her bones as she tried once again to find the room. The creaking sound of the door behind made her whip her head around, the light glowing from the armory catching her eye.

 

The door must be open, she thought.

She placed her hand on the wall, a guide through the dark corridor as she ran away from the fighting when a sudden pain shot up her arm. Withdrawing her hand quickly, she flexed her fingers and then gently placed it back where it had been, discovering the wall was not stone but moist wood.

The room!

 

Finding the handle she pulled, nothing happened. She pulled harder and yet still not a budge. Slowly drawing in a breath she yanked the door with all the strength she had, and it creaked slowly open. She quickly slipped through the narrow gap, and attempted to shut it quietly by pulling it slowly toward her. It groaned as though it was calling out to her assailants to come and seize her. Leaning against the wall farthest from the door she sunk down to her knees. Fear engulfing her being, she bowed her head and began to pray,

 

“Gods give me strength”…

Out of the sheer darkness something grabbed her shoulder, her breath stopped trapped in her chest, her knuckles turned white as her fist tightened around her dagger.

 

Has death found me, she thought.

A hand moved up her shoulder and turned her slightly.

“Look at me before you stab me,”came a familiar voice.

It was him, he found her, now she knew they had a fighting chance to survive this long night.

 

“I thought you were dead,”she whispered as she turned to face him.

“I know, I’m sorry I could not tell you otherwise,”he answered in a whisper.

 

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word, he put his hand over her mouth and signaled her to be quiet. He thought he had heard something but soon found it was just a rodent scurrying across the floor. She looked him in the eyes, he noticed a mix of anger and horror spread across her face.

A fresh jagged slash caught her attention, it lay just beneath his left eye and stretched to his jaw. Stepping back slightly to take a clear look at him, he was exhausted and his clothes were torn and ragged. She fought the urge to throw her arms around him.

The most important thing is that he is alive, she thought. But if we do not move soon, surely we will be caught.

He opened the door slightly, peeking up and down the hallway, when he was positive that it was clear, he led her out, through the armory, down a winding staircase and out of the castle.

They darted away toward the forest which was nearly a half mile away, as they reached the outskirts they stopped to catch their breath.

“Can you keep running or do we need to stop?”he questioned her, gasping for air himself. She nodded her head very slowly.

“Okay, quickly now,”he replied. They began to run through the woods, dodging branches and other obstacles that stood in their way. After an exhausting few miles, they came to a stop beside a large tree where they knew that the cover of the branches would shield them from unwanted eyes. He turned to her and offered a half-smile.

 

“We have to go... we have to get away from this place!”she whispered.

“I know…I know,” he sighed, trying not to seem downhearted.

Her eyes were fierce, full of rage and hate as her adrenaline began to subside.

 

“Godric agreed to meet me here with horses before dawn,”he tried to reassured her as he tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around a scrap dripping blood down her arm. She nodded, refusing to look him in the eye.

 

As he opened his mouth to speak, needing to settle her rage towards him, he heard the metallic hiss of swords being withdrawn from their scabbards. He looked up and drew his quickly, she clasped her dagger and held it tightly, wishing she too had her sword. Heavy movement in the brush inched towards them, moments later they were surrounded by royal guards.

The King had found them!


	3. Chapter 2-Wake Up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone likes it I will post more

~Chapter 2: Wake Up Call~

Faith awakens with a jolt from the nightmare, covered in sweat and gasping for air. A mess of grey sheets and loose feathers from her pillow surround her as she waits for her heart to slow. Once the pounding subsides she stands up, a slight headache starting to form. She slowly walks into the bathroom where she fumbles around in the dark trying to locate the light switch.

_ Dammit, where the hell is it? _

She runs her hands across the wall until she finds it. Her eyes cringe at the sudden light, blinding her for a split second. She trudges over to the sink and begins to run warm water into the basin. Dipping her hands in she splashes her face, for a while she just stands there, head hanging, drawing in deep breaths.

_ I’m getting too old for this _

  She raises her head slowly to look into the tarnished mirror that hangs above the sink, only to discover her eyes are red and swollen from crying.

_ Is it normal to cry when you dream _ , she wondered?

Faith had been suffering from these dreams  ever since she was a little girl, they were always the same, never changing, even in the slightest detail. Turning away from the mirror disheveled by her appearance, she wanders back into her bedroom. Picks up the alarm clock ,4:25 a.m. Sighing, she sets the clock back down on the nightstand, plops down on the bed, pulls a pillow over her head and groans. Her workday begins in less than five hours. 

“Ahhh man, I’m never gonna get back to sleep,” she complains to herself.

It’s Monday, the first day of summer break from college, which means she has to drive two hours from New Orleans to St. Francisville, Louisiana.

_ Here we go again _ she thinks as she drives her truck down the interstate, radio blaring, singing along with every song she knows.

The traffic is heavy, annoying this morning, and finally, after hours of putting up with aggravation, she spots the exit sign St.Francisville ½ miles. After a few more minutes, she pulls onto the off ramp that slopes gently upward and stops at the stop sign. Gently, she eases to the right and follows the country road, every few miles beautiful turn of the century houses dot the

countryside, as majestic as stars in the sky. Then after a few more turns, she pulls onto the long gravel road that leads to the plantation. On both sides of the road stand weeping willows, the tops of their branches curving inward, locking themselves together in a natural arch that seem to say in their own way, follow us and we will lead you into the past.

As the dusty road turns slightly about a mile down, the plantation house comes into view. She slows her truck even more so she can bask in the comfort of being home. The century old two-story mansion is a magnificent sight to behold, with its alabaster finish that appears to glow in the morning light. Eight massive columns stand in front as though they are soldiers standing at attention. Two lines of windows grace the two levels of the house. A small balcony with intricate wrought iron railing and a double paned French door extends over the front entryway; ideal for relaxing and enjoying the gifts of nature.

She continues up the driveway following its long, graceful curve forming a circle in front of the house. In her mind’s eye she pictures women in beautiful gowns being helped down from elegant carriages, the sound of hoof beats in time with the grinding of wooden wheels bustling down the dirt road, huge galas being held that would put any ball in the South, prior to the Civil War to shame.

Suddenly, she hears stomping of hooves in the nearby pasture, the manors horses signaling a welcome home to her. At the far end of the estate she spots a few employees and members of the Historical Society, they are busy working on a smaller house that is adjacent to the stable. In the time of the confederacy this had been the slave’s quarters but for the past hundred years, only vermin and insects have called it home. She can hear barking coming from the open door at the balcony, and raises her head.

“I’m home boy,”she yells.

She finally feels relaxed as she drives past the slave quarters to a small mobile garage and parks her truck inside.When she gets out after the two hour drive  she stretches for a minute letting her muscles re-adjust, then continues walking up to the front of the house. Its sunny outside but the surrounding trees mask the workers from the sun. The temperature is around eighty-five degrees, yet the breeze blowing over the bayou seems to cool the air. Reaching the bottom of the stairs she stops, closes her eyes, and just lets the scent of the roses and lilacs on either side of her fill her being then walks into the house. When she steps into the parlor a huge German Shepherd comes barreling down the staircase as fast as his legs can carry him to greet her, his tongue hanging out and tail wagging impatiently.

"Awe, Rogue I've missed you,”she says petting him, he decides he wants more and jumps up on her attempting to lick her face.

“I love you to Roguey but get down,”she states grabbing his paws, forcing him back on all fours.

As she continues up the stairs to the room she always occupied, Rogue trails obediently behind her. It sits at the end of a long hall, the last of the second floor bedrooms, paintings of the bayou that portray the south at its prime adorn the walls. Hand-blown glass vases brimming with wild Irises and Spanish moss, sit on small tables along the hall, accompanied with tintype pictures of the original family. The room is decorated as it would have been during the time of the civil war. An ornately designed bed rests in the corner, covered with a wedding ring pattern quilt, by the open window a rocking chair sits in wait. On the back wall an oak chest of drawers stands, along with an original vanity that had been refurbished. The door clicks open and the hardwood underfoot creak as she walks over to the bed, sets her duffle bag down, and begins to unpack. Drawing a deep breath in, she can almost taste the Cajun seasonings being used in the kitchen.

Rogue waddles over and attempts to jump onto the bed but finds it’s a bit too high and gives up. 

“Come here,” she giggles, patting the bed. He manages with a little effort to get his front paws on the quilt,she moves behind him and pushes his rear end up until he is standing on the quilt. The 8 year old dog Rogue, as much a part of the family as his masters, lies down to rest comfortably on her pillow as she goes back  to unpacking.

Minutes later she hears a knock on the door, Rogue begins to bark but soon gives up, too comfortable, disinterested quickly.

“Wow, what a guard dog you are,”she smirks, rubbing his head. Without further courtesy, it swings open and a confederate soldier stands before her. A huge smile spreads across her face as she shakes her head a bit.

"Oh my, Mica, how may I attend you sir?”Mocking him in her authentic southern drawl.

"Hello to you too", the gentleman says, smiling back at her. His dirty blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail, tucked under his uniform cap. The grey color of the uniform makes his tan stand out, to where it resembles a honey colored tone.

“What are you doing in costume?” Faith asks while trying not to burst out laughing when she notices how small the uniform is. Mica follows her eyes downward,

"I was making sure it fits, I grew some since last summer.”

 He smiles coyly as a hint of rouge begins to spread across his cheeks because he knows that the buttons on his jacket and pants are protruding more than just a little.

"You grew some? Some is growing an inch taller. No, you went through puberty on steroids my friend.”she teased, “How was your drive?”

_ I bet the traffic was horrible, and you cussed out everyone driving in front of you _ , Faith holds back her desire to laugh at the thought of him crawling down the interstate. 

_  Just like last year when you drove us up here and you thought everyone was trying to run us off the road because they were driving faster than you… _

"Not too bad, just long… How’s college going? Last time we talked you seemed pretty out of it." he asks gazing at her showing concern in his bronze-hued eyes.

“Faith is that you, darlin?”comes a soft voice from downstairs. Faith runs through the hall and down the stairs, thanking god for the distraction.. Standing at the bottom is an elderly woman with glasses, about seventy years old. Her medium length black hair is tied up in a bun, encompassed with a white streak drifting down the left side of her up due. Faith runs up and gives her a hug, wrapping her arms around the woman’s small figure, frightened she will break the fragile woman.

"How’s college going sweetie?”Shirley asks in the middle of the embrace.

“It’s good, but I miss the south when I'm there,” 

_ The food sucks too _ , she thinks to herself.

"Is that my sweet pea?”asks an elderly man walking in the back door, 

“Vaughn!” Faith squeals and runs to him, arms outstretched. 

   Shirley and Vaughn are the owners of the plantation. Regrettably they never had any children, so when Faith came to work for them, naturally they bonded and embraced her as their own.

“I want to talk to you later, but I got some work to do sugar", says Vaughn, a huge grin behind 

his grey goatee. 

     He walks over to the kitchen and grabs a bandana to wipe the sweat off his bald head and glasses. He stands around five foot eleven, which he always said was caused  by shrinking after World War II, where he was a captain in the Navy. 

"I know, I gotta go get my things ready for tomorrow," She gives them another hug.

“If yall will please excuse me, I need to finish unpacking so I can give you my fullest attention this afternoon.” She smiles, turns, and then walks back to her room.A few hours pass as Faith finishes putting away her belongings,

_ I can’t stand being inside any longer, I feel like a caged animal. _

     She takes a deep breath and throws on a pair of jean shorts.  Rogue is still lying on the bed, but when he sees her heading for the door he decides he wants to follow. As they walk down the stairway she glances occasionally at the family portraits lining the wall. When she passes through the parlor Rogue stops, sniffs the aroma of the pies Shirley is baking in the kitchen. Faith flicks his ear to gain his attention, and then he follows her through the back door. The stone path leads them through the old sugar cane field to Shirley’s garden. In the garden rests a beautiful live oak that is over a hundred and fifty years old, its branches extending so far it appears to bow down to mother nature in prayer, hanging from one of the branches is a simple swing. She takes a seat and starts to sway back and forth, back and forth her legs driving her higher. The wind….an afternoon breeze coming off the bayou stirs up the lilacs in the garden and makes the air smell sweet.

“Now look at that southern belle just swinging away,”  Mica snickers softly as he walks up the 

path.

"Don't you know it", she giggles. Just as she opens her eyes, she notices him smirking at her, his arms crossed over his chest in a haughty manner.

"Well Mica, now I can tell why you needed to try on your uniform, your muscles are huge". He simply smiles as she stares at how tight his shirt hugs his body.

_ He most definitely isn’t the boy I left last summer he’s so… _

  She stares at him for another minute trying to keep her bottom jaw from dropping.

_ I don’t have words for how good he looks, Damn! _

“May I escort you to dinner, my lady?”Mica asks, trying to be as cavalier as an aristocrat.

"Why not,”she replies. He offers his arm, and she rises from the swing. Like a lady and her debonair escort, they walk back into the house to join everyone. As they enter the parlor, workers--or family, as everyone says-- are walking around trying to set the enormous oak table in the dining room with a traditional Louisiana supper in honor of the opening of the season. Once the table was ready it was filled to its breaking point with platters full of nice red crawfish, shrimp gumbo, collard greens, fried okra, Cajun chicken with Creole dressing filling the house with its aroma, fresh fruit graced the main course, and for dessert, every pie they could manage to whip up disappeared as if ten people had snuck in and joined them. To drink; pitchers of ice cold sweet tea and lemonade. After the delicious meal, Faith helps clean up the dining room and kitchen, then bids everyone good night retiring back upstairs to go to bed. It had been an extremely exhausting day, and sleep came easy that night.


	4. Chapter 3

~ Chapter 3: Down into Darkness~

     Faith began to stir, but when she awakened she was not in the south, instead a very dark room, stone walls surrounding her. She was getting the back of her corset tightened by a lady in waiting,  her arms wrapped around a bedpost trying not to cry as the strings were yanked harder and harder. Once her corset was as tight as one could possibly get it laced, the woman lifted her gown over her head.

    Faith stepped in front of a mirror, she was in an elegant, floor length velvet gown, the color of an amethyst which only royalty was allowed to display. It was not cut in the style of the French court, which accentuated the hips, and had long, houppelande sleeves-- she found that design grotesque. Rather, her gown was smooth and hugged her figure; its bodice fell off her shoulders in small straps revealing her pale, delicate form. Then she withdrew the clip holding her hair and let it cascaded in long black curls down her back.

"Are you ready, my lady?”asked the woman. Faith merely shook her head yes, took a deep breath, and started to make way to the banquet hall. She could feel the cool night air on her skin but not even its soothing presence could calm her. 

  All she wanted was to be beckoned by death’s call, she was forced along into the banquet hall by the woman who then turned her over to the guards. Their faces were as stone, cold and unfeeling, they forced her toward her seat without a word. She kept her head high and followed as she was placed her in front of a chair, where she was forced to remain standing, a prisoner in velvet.

The musicians in the enormous hall began to play and many people set off for the dance floor, paying little to no attention to this beautiful young woman. Tears ached to spill forward, the pain of holding them back building like a dam, this was when she spotted him. He was leaning against the far wall drinking from a silver goblet, conversing with some of the other gentlemen. His appearance astonished her, he was genuinely the most handsome man she had ever seen, including those kinsmen from her native country.

He was quite tall compared to the other men in court, easily over six foot tall,  his dark hair tied back with a small piece of leather. He wore black breeches, a black and silver doublet, his worn tall boots came to mid-thigh... An Irish hand and half sword with a high polished cross guard and pommel, leather wrapped handle, hung in its scabbard on his hip. At all times  he had his hand  resting on the hilt of his sword. This easy readiness to draw it at a moment’s notice told her he was a master swordsman. He caught her carefully watching him from across the crowded hall, and looked back. She could now see his eyes, an odd color reminding her of frosted ice. She stared more intensely only to notice he was quite pale as if his skin had not been touched by the sun in many a fortnight. 

His features astonished her, they were quite elegant, as if a great sculptor has taken the time to make them perfect. Delicate, almost rough-hewn, and absolutely masculine. His full lips broadened into a smile for her, he then took his seat around the massive table that bordered the room. Knots began to emerge within her stomach as a loud trumpet called, and with a slight jump she awoke to her alarm yelling at her to get up. 

She slams her hand down on the button to shut it off,

“OUCH!”she screams, “That’s gonna leave a mark and… I probably broke another clock… freakin AWESOME”. 

Faith just lies there; taking deep breaths in and out feeling the knots in her stomach linger.


	5. Chapter 4

~Chapter 4: The South Will Rise Again~

Summer is upon them, the plantation tours are expected to be getting very busy. It’s the first day of tours and Faith is busy upstairs with Shirley who is helping her into an 1800's southern

gown. It is made of white cotton with small blue flowers dappling the fabric. The bodice is intricate lace, and off the shoulder. As a final touch, Shirley ties a green sash around the waist of the dress. Faith’s hair is naturally curly, so she decides to just pin a little on top of her head and let the rest fall in spirals down her back.

"My darling, every time I see you step into character I could believe you were Scarlet O 'Hara,” Shirley says welling up with pride, Faith can’t help but smile,  takes a deep breath and walks downstairs to await her guests, while Shirley goes around and checks on the new employees. Faith saunters out the front door of the house and sits down on the porch swing. The warm summer air sweeps across the willows surrounding the plantation, and morning dew clings to the grass in crystalline spheres. The morning light bounces off them in a prism of colors drawing Faith in with its beauty.

Vaughn steps out of the house, and stretches his back. Faith can smell the fresh coffee on his clothes. He notices her sitting on the porch swing staring into the abyss of nature bordering the plantation.

“Well, Good morning, peaches,”he bursts.

Faith gasps and turns her head toward the door. “Dearie me, I do say you startled me sir,”she says her hand over her heart, looking appalled.

“I do beg your forgiveness, Ms. Faith, perhaps you would do this old man a kindness and help me snap green beans for supper?”he replies. He hands her a basket and sits beside her on the swing.

“My how you’ve grown since I last saw you,”he says while snapping the ends off beans.

“I don’t think I’ve grown that much…well maybe my hair,”

Faith is stunning in her belle gown. Vaughn lets his old eyes drift across the curves of her shoulders, down to the slenderness of her sashed waist, recalling the girl of last year. Her high cheekbones, now sculpted and classically alluring.

“So how is school going? Are there any boys that have caught your eye?”he says nudging her arm with his elbow.

“No, no boys. They’re all… Yankees for one,” she jokes.  “And two the ones that hit on me tend to  have been grow short and stupid,”she says with a disgusted look on her face,

“But school’s all right, boring as usual, and the food is terrible,”she says regaining her composure.

“Not like your Mimi’s cookin, no surrey,”

_ Ahhh Mimi, my pet name for Shirley, since I can’t exactly call her grandma _ . Faith looks down, seeming a little saddened …she desperately wishes she could call them her grandparents, but for the mean time its Mimi and Poppa .

About twenty minutes pass, she notices cars beginning to pull into the long driveway. Tourists pour out of the vehicles. All Faith does is smile, and think to herself how goofy some of the people look with their fanny packs and Hawaiian print shirts.

“Well I enjoyed our talk so much, God I missed you Poppa,”she gave him a quick hug then adds, “Well I best be getting these tours goin.”

Vaughn smiles, kisses her cheek and takes the green beans back into the house. The tourists start to walk towards the porch where she is sitting.

"Good Morning folks, Welcome to the Kinder Plantation". She says very cheerily. She stands up and brushes her dress down and shows them into the sitting room.

“It will be about ten minutes yet before the tour begins. Please make yourself at home while I wait for the rest of the group to arrive.”Then she leaves and returns to the porch to await more guests. After a few more vehicles pull up, and they are all gathered in the sitting room, Faith enters.

"My name is Faith and I will be your guide back through history to a time of southern belles and confederate soldiers.”There is sporadic applause, Faith curtseys slightly, then turns and leads them through the house.

“The Kinder Plantation was built in 1803 by the family of Addison and Jessie Amelia Kinder. It originally grew sugar cane which was the second major cash crop in Louisiana during the civil war. This plantation was and is home to the Kinder family and housed 43 slaves.”She says while there walking from the sitting room into the dining room

"The house was run with twenty house slaves and the rest were in the fields. This room was the original dining room where many parties were hosted on behalf of the confederacy". People snap pictures as they continue on the tour. Then suddenly there is a loud bang which makes many of the people jump,

"Gentlemen, the confederacy is in dire need for soldiers! Will anyone here be brave enough to join our cause, perhaps just to make sure these fine ladies are well taken care of ?”Mica boasts,

standing with his legs spread in the doorway in his Confederate Uniform. In his left hand he 

holds a worn and aged-looking rifle.

Many people start to laugh. A few of the men raise their hands and state they will join, which Mica is greatly pleased to hear.

"Why ladies, are we going to let our men go to war without a full stomach?" Faith questions with mock sincerity.

"No!”a few yell.

"Then ladies and gentlemen may we adjourn to lunch out to the back for some wonderful southern style Barbeque?" They shake their heads in agreement and follow her to the back of the plantation house, and into what was once an old sugar cane field.

Vaughn is there, busy with the Barbeque, and Shirley is getting all the other fixens ready to go with the meal. During the lunch, Mica and a few others start to entertain guests with little skits about the civil war. At the end Mica pulls Faith in to do an impressions from Margaret

Mitchell’s famous novel Gone with the Wind. After lunch she leads her group back inside and tells them more history of the family and the plantation itself. Along the way, moving gracefully in front of them, glancing back often to address them directly, she walks them up the staircase slowly, pointing out individual photos and paintings that hang along the wall, mentioning who the people are and when they lived. When she reaches the middle of the staircase, she is busy telling them a story about one of the uncles who served as a cavalry leader in the civil war, when she notices a picture of a soldier that she has not seen before.

_ It’s him … I’m sure of it! _

It is the man in her dreams. After all these years she finally sees a photo of the man that has haunted her for almost eighteen years and of all places. 

_ How is this possible though? I have to find Shirley when I’m done with this tour; I have to find out who that is and why it’s hanging here! _

She continues the tour up the stairs to the second story of the plantation house where her room is located; this is where the guests will be spending their nights, each in lavish civil war era decorated rooms.

“Now dear people, it is almost evening and I must leave you," she says as she passes out their room keys.

“Dinner will be served in the dining room at eight o'clock and you are more than welcome to explore the property all you like. Enjoy yourselves and I will see you then," she states. They wave and bid their goodbyes, wandering off to their rooms. She turns at her door and adds with a little smile,

“And do watch out for the ghosts who haunt this wonderful old place.”

They respond with chuckles. Faith runs downstairs as soon as she is away from the visitors line of sight to find Shirley; she needs an explanation, and quickly --feeling she is going to burst with the battering mix of emotions. She runs all around the house looking for her and finally stumbles upon her in the kitchen.

"Shirley, I really need to ask you something!" Faith mutters, out of breath. Shirley turns away from the cookie batter that she is mixing.

“What’s wrong honey?"

"Okay. Well I know who all the people are in photos up the wall by the staircase, but now there's one picture I've never seen before," she explains.

"Oh really, which one was that?" Shirley replies.

“Umm, young soldier, sitting on a stool holding a rifle, it’s hanging in the center of the stairwell.”

“Ohh lordy me, that the one I just done hung up,”

"Do you know who that is?" Faith questions excitedly.

“Well it’s a long story, Sugar. Can I sit down my tired bones and tell you after I finish these here cookies for supper tonight?" she asks.

“Yeah sure, I guess so. I’ll go change real quick so I don't get this dress dirty," Faith says as she runs her hands over the dress, brushing flour from the counter off her skirt. 

She heads to her room, feeling a little disappointed that she has to wait for the story. Once inside she slowly unties the sashes of the dress and wiggles out of it, placing it on a hanger and draping it over her bed.

“Oh my God, I can breathe now… okay, where did I put my jeans?”she mumbles as she looks around her room. When she finds her jeans, she changes into them and pulls a soft tee shirt on. Walking back downstairs,  she feels more comfortable and filled with excitement.

She heads to the kitchen and pulls a bar stool up to the counter, grabs a peach, and starts to snack.

"So, Shirley what's that soldiers story?”

"Well," Shirley begins,

“His name was Holt Raisler; he was a Sergeant in the 118th Louisiana infantry. What I have been told was, he was with his regiment when the confederacy was regrouping from fighting in Georgia during that bastard Sherman's march to the sea. Holt and his men set up camp near Baton Rouge. Unbeknownst to them, weeks before, those damn Yankee's poisoned the creeks and ponds around the escape routes of the confederacy. This act killed Holt's entire regiment one fateful night. The strange thing was, he was the only survivor, and till this day no one can figure out why he was spared. 

   Sugar, would you like a piece of chocolate cream pie, I just made it this morning?”Shirley reaches over to the refrigerator and pulls out a giant pie and begins to slice into it.

“Yes ma’am,”Faith answers trying not to drool over how delicious the pie looks.

“Well… I do declare I forgot where I was,”Shirley said looking confused furrowing her brow.

“His regiment had been poisoned, he was the only survivor,”Faith reminded her.

“Oh God bless ya child,”Shirley chuckles.

“So he walked for help for three days trying to find someone…anyone. He found nothing till he stumbled onto the porch of this very house. He was exhausted, thirsty and starving… well you can probably imagine! First having to fight those Yanks then discovering there is no water you can drink to fill you gullet, walking day after day. Oh that poor boy.”As she spoke a small tear fell upon her cheek.

“Good gracious. Anyhow he dared not drink a thing while he was looking for help, well, you know…the water bein’so bad. Jessie Kinder cared for him, while Addison hid him from any

Yankee deserters. He soon enough became like a son to the couple, they even took that picture you now see on the wall so they would always have a token of him. Then one day they awoke and he was gone. Not a single trace of him remained here except that picture. I found it a few weeks ago in a trunk in the attic and decided to put it up with his family where they felt he belonged. "

"Wow that's ...amazing," Faith said with a sense of awe, picturing the exhausted soldier trudging through the woods in search of help.

“It would make the confederacy proud, knowing they had a man like him. It's such a great tale of southern strength, you can tell it on your tours now,"

“Yes Of course," answers Faith, feeling a little uneasy. 

_ Why would I be dreaming of guy that has been dead for over a hundred and fifty years? _ She begins to rise from the stool, lost in the thought of the soldier.

“Would you like another piece of pie dear, you lookin a mite scrawny, those Yankee’s are most certainly not feeding you enough.”Shirley scowls, waving a pie cutter around.

“No I’m alright, but thankya kindly,”

She makes her way through the house, up the staircase and pauses at the picture, letting the image fill her mind. She stares at his eyes and they seem to look right into her soul, she knows those eyes. To her they appear gentle and caring, just like in her dreams. But there is something different about him in that picture that she never had seen imagined, a sadness of some sort.

Maybe it was just because of the war but in her heart she knew it went much deeper than that. In the picture he has not aged a day from her dreams. Still as handsome and strong. Though when she steps closer to it she can tell there are subtle differences. His hair is much shorter. And his skin- it could have been the photograph wearing old, but his skin seemed older, not like that of a normal man, more like marble. As if he had aged like the South had, gracefully, at first, but by the end, quite forcefully.


	6. Chapter 5

~Chapter 5 Moonlight and Fireflies~

New Orleans police are on edge trying to catch a vicious serial killer thats victims have begun to emerge up and down the Quarter.  Forensics have matched the murderers style to a trail of bodies that were discovered in St. Louis months prior but as of yet no leads or motives have been unearthed. 

A shadow figure hovers on top of a building, waiting.....watching. A woman walking down the sidewalk on Bourbon Street catches its attention. Readying itself for the upcoming slaughter, a second figure swoops in for the kill.

“Damn you... that was mine,” Hisses the shadow from atop the building. All it can see is a  double set of fangs set into a smile,  glistening in the moonlight. The shadow jumps from the building to meet its adversary. After draining the woman, the dark figure drops the body onto the ground like a bag of feed. Stepping into the moonlight it reveals itself to be a man, over six foot tall, short spiked black hair, and pale eyes.

“Ah, Chase. Getting slow in your old age are we?”says the man with a smirk.

“No, I’m just pickier about my food then you I suppose,”spits the shadow beginning to materialize into a man that has shrunk to stand around five feet eleven, with shaggy blond hair; his sapphire blue eyes shining bright.

“Chase, why are you in my territory anyway?”scowls the dark haired man.

“Well Dean my dear, it’s not a friendly visit, the masters psychic saw you run away from a kill; to say the least he’s not pleased and wants you to finish the job.”

“No problem, consider it done,”mocks Dean. Although, in the back of his mind he is unsure.

“So Dean, I’m curious… why would you let a mortal escape your grasp in the first place?”questions Chase trying to enrage his old teacher.

“I didn’t LET anyone escape my grasp!”Dean lied, “I just found someone …shall we say…more appetizing.”

“Ah, I see. I simply thought you have lost your touch,”Chase boasts.

Rage wells up inside Dean, his eyes appear to burn with quicksilver. A deep growl escapes his throat and lunges at chase, jaw clenched unveiling fangs so sharp they could pierce diamonds. Grabbing Chase’s shoulders, Dean rams him into a nearby building, resulting only in a rain of brick dust and… laughter from Chase.

“Well old friend, perhaps you still are the demon I once use to be envious of,”He admits still in Dean’s clutches. 

   After a few minutes of being held up, his breathing becomes shallow and Chase pries himself out of Dean’s grasp, brushes his hands down his wrinkled coat, and leans against the wall that is shrouded in shadow. 

   Dean remains still while they continue to argue till Daybreak when Chase stands up and begins to transform back into his shadowy self and disappears into the residual night.

   Dean watches the mists swirling as Chase leaves, thinking

_ What an asshole!! I should’ve torn him apart! _

___________________________________________________________________________

         Faith sits through dinner not uttering a single word. No matter how hard she tries not to think about that man, he is the only thing on her mind, like a tape playing over and over, without end. This continues all through the night, denying her any bit of sleep she might have gotten. When the sun begins to rise, she walks downstairs and sips tea on the porch, with Rogue lying beside her contented. She feels the warm summer breeze on her face, and the sweet scent of honeysuckle immerses her in a wave of happiness. After a hard night, the South’s welcoming presence is just what she needs for her soul to be replenished.

Soon the guests will begin to stir. Today Faith is to take those that signed up for a tour on horseback through the plantations acreage. She tip-toes back upstairs and puts her jeans on, and a plantation T-shirt along with her cowboy boots, and  heads to breakfast. After she is through eating she runs out the back door to check on the horses. The stable hands have already tacked them up and left them ready in their stalls. Walking through the stable she hears a loud whinny, and she smiles.

“Where’s my boy… where’s Raven!”

Another loud whinny. 

In the stall is a large black Spanish mustang, shaking its head wildly in pleasure.

“Okay we’re going in a little bit, calm down”.

_ God I missed my horse. _

Soon the group came out; she assigns them all a horse. They mount, with long minutes of detailed instructions concerning which foot to place in the stirrup, how to grab hold of the reins, and how to swing their free leg over without making their horse turn in a circle. The tour begins.

“Oh my! Will he buck me off?”a chubby woman of fifty or fifty-five exclaims as her horse rears his neck at the pressure she exerts on the reins.

_ We’re not even out of the barn. Great! _

“No ma’am. It’s a mare, and she’s gentle as a lamb. Don’t worry, you’re quite safe as long as you don’t kick her in the sides and Yell, “Giddy up!” she snarks sarcastically. 

It feels good for her to ride; to just sit in the worn leather saddle, letting her legs fall deep on the horses sides as the warm wind brushes her face and whips her hair loosely behind her; during the school year riding is her only escape from the real world and its stress. Now, as she leads the group out into the woods, she feels as if in hundreds of years, the trees, the scents, nothing... this place has never changed, she is at home on horseback with no civilization to cloud her mind.

They rediscover the beauty which is nature. Sweet grass brushes across the legs of the horses, their mains sway with each step, the horses relaxed breathing murmurs as they work their way along the trail. A babbling brook sings a soft melody as they lead the horses through the forest.

The breeze blows through the willows, swaying the Spanish moss that is dangling, threatening to

touch the riders as they pass below the branches. When they come to the bank of the bayou, Faith leads them over the arched bridge spanning the swamp. As they cross, the sound of hoof beats echo into the distance.

On the other bank of the bayou a small shanty comes into view. It is ramshackle, and surrounded by lily pads in the mossy green water of the swamp. Faith tries to steer the group away from the shack. She turns in her saddle, puts her finger to her mouth motioning them to be silent. Yet an elderly, African-American woman steps out of the shack dressed in colorful clothing; and smoking a cigarette, staring at them intensely with her clear blue eyes.

“Beb, so good of you to stop by,”she calls out to Faith in her peculiarly low-pitched voice.

“Na-nan, how are you?”Faith says as she steps off her horse.

“Oh I went ro-day up and down de bayou on Sunday afternoon, dat about it,”she answered walking towards Faith, embracing her in a hug,

“Everyone this is Mamma Vidal, she’s a voodoo priestess,”explains Faith. . There is murmuring and exclamations of surprise mixed with an undercurrent of wariness.

“So, dis is your first tour through da bayou?”She asks the group with her thick Cajun accent.

The majority of the group says “Yes”or nods their heads in agreement.

“Ahhh, Mais I don’t tink I want to go dare da spirits of Louisiana,”she warns them.

Faith smiles at her. Mamma Vidal grabs onto Faith’s hand in a loving fashion but suddenly jerks forward, her eyes appearing to stare into nothing. When she finally lets go, she gazes at Faith with worried eyes.

“Child, beware… da darkness is afta you, I see a bonne home dass hiden in darkness, he wants your soul bad.”

Faith manages to shake her head and moves to get back on her horse,

“Thank you Na-nan.”

“You folks come back ya here? And Beb,”she says with a worried tone,

“Come back on Tuesday, we need ta talk. Ya hear dat, Chile?”

“Okay, I will.”Faith answers. She takes a last, passing look over her shoulder at Mamma

Vidal, and then leads the group past the shack and back into the foliage. The sun is setting, and lightning bugs are twinkling around the plantation. When her group rides up the driveway, she spots Vaughn handing out jars so that the children staying at the plantation so they can catch fireflies.

This small act reminds her of her childhood, and makes her smile. After the horses are put away she takes the tour group over to the picnic table where Shirley is carving water melons.

“The fireworks display will start as soon as it’s dark, until then get a snack folks,”Shirley says, pointing to the trays of inviting fruit. Faith grabs a piece of melon, and sits down on the porch to wait for the stars to break the deep blue arc of the sky and begin to twinkle at her .

____________________________________________________________________________

Dean awakens, and the first thought that crosses his mind is finding the girl he let live. He proceeds to the last place he had tracked her to, an apartment in the French quarter, but when he arrives she is gone.

“Dammit, where is she?”He mashes the words through gritted teeth. Grabs hold of the balcony railing and takes some of his frustration out on the metal. After a while he manages to take a deep breath, closes his eyes then lifts his head to the wind. When he opens them, the scleras are completely black. Drawing in another deep breath, he catches a faint hint of her essence on the wind coming from the north. He leaps off the balcony and disappears into the city yet after reaching Baton Rouge the scent is faint.

_ Ahhh God Dammit! _

He had not been north of Baton Rouge since the war. He continues to run until finally on the outskirts of St.Francisville her essence captures him once more.

He reaches a gravel road that leads to the Kinder Plantation, and starts to walk slowly. Unexpectedly, fireworks light up the sky. This small act brings memories of when civil war was declared. How every man jumped on their horse and rode through the night, artillery flashes lighting their way to join the Confederate Army. A gust of wind sweeps across the field, and her scent fills his lungs. This explosion of her raw and enticing essence makes it hard for him to concentrate on his objective.

To kill or be killed.

Dean stalks over to a giant weeping willow and silently jumps into its branches,  climbing slowly to the top. He scans the front yard closely, finally he spots her, she is leaning with her elbows back on the steps of the front porch, her hair blowing in the wind; He can point out every individual curl in her long locks and has the sudden urge to run his fingers through them.

Her skin is pale and smooth; no imperfections to be found, her pulsing veins entice him. He runs his tongue over his aching gums, dying to release his fangs. He grabs a branch in each hand and begins to squeeze, crushing them to dust in his palms. Breathing becomes difficult for him, her lips call to him so ample and crimson. 

“She does not have that horrific shape of a twig like most women in this century. No…not at all, she has smooth curves like a finely crafted hour-glass,”a voice whispers in his mind. He shakes his head trying to rid himself of the voice; he knows it comes from his master persuading him to kill.

Eventually, her eyes glance down from the fireworks display. He catches her gaze, her eyes are like pools of emerald fire, threatening to devour his soul. 

Finally, the fireworks display comes to an end and Faith goes inside to retire. She walks slowly through the front door and meanders up the stairwell, glancing at Holt’s picture along the way, continuing down the hall, just to find she’s in her room without a single thought.

“Ahhh what a day.”She says with a sigh. After retrieving her night clothes from her dresser-drawers, on to the bathroom across the hall from her room for a quick shower. Fifteen minutes later she heads to bed with wet hair and a sour disposition.

Now that she is out of Dean’s line of sight he can think properly.

I _ ’ve killed millions of people, she is no different. Remember kill or be killed by the master. _ He swoops down from the tree on an impulse and across the yard, now deserted.

_ Maybe she is a witch of some kind no mortal has ever held power over me _ !

He plans to hold his breath and no matter what, not look into her eyes. He leaps to the roof with the grace of a panther. Just once more does he allow himself to track her essence to her room. It is dark and quiet, now. He pulls out his knife, jams it into the window pane to slide the windows lock to the side, silently opening it he swings in.  

   He lands in a crouched position, fingers and palms on the carpet in front of him, then slowly stands up. Faith is lying in bed, twisted in her cover, struggling with some unconscious thought. The first time he witnessed her sleeping, it was peaceful, now it is almost painful to watch. He closes his eyes and regains his composure. 

Kill or be killed.

He wants to strike quick, make her death almost painless. Just as he leans down over her she starts crying out in her sleep, catching him off guard. He leans over  once more but the next moment she cries out again, this time more loudly.

“No!! Please!!! Don’t make me do this!”

  Her voice is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard; it puts all of Maestro Bach’s compositions to shame. Suddenly she awakens and stares right at him. He freezes, knowing he should kill her but every muscle in his body is frozen.

“It’s you,”she whispers.

        She closes her eyes trying to focus her vision in the dark and the second they reopen he is gone. Hopefully, she will think it is a dream but if she doesn’t, it’s just another reason to end her life.


	7. Chapter 6

~ Chapter 6 Urgent~

Faith awakens the next morning with a sense of urgency. The night before, she had her usual nightmares, but... also a dream that she’d never had before. The man that has haunted her was standing right before her, only this time he was dressed in current fashion. Nice jeans, a black wife beater and a worn leather jacket. His hair was cut short and spiked, but his eyes remained the same.

_ I must be going crazy, first dreaming about a dead guy and now this... but oh my god was he hot! _

That thought makes her smile from ear to ear. Today is her first day off; she tries to sleep in, but…no.

_ I hate that I can’t fall back asleep once I wake up _ .

She turns her head on the pillow and glances at the end of the bed. Rogue is sprawled out on his back, feet in the air, leaning against the footboard of the bed frame, dead to the world. She wonders if he saw anything last night. If he did, it must not have perturbed him.

She rises quietly from the warm bed, trying not to disturb him, then pads to the bath with her clothes. Five minutes later she is out the door and headed down the hall. The home’s study at the end makes her stop. She glances at the door, decides to spend an hour or two with a good book from its extensive library.

Faith had been accused of being a bookworm her entire life. She never minded though,  she feels she can be anyone, anywhere when she inside the binding of a great book.

As she walks into the study, she finds herself basking in the ambiance of the room. Large oak shelves line the walls, their warm wood caring for the assortment of books that rest upon them. Wisps of sunlight radiate the room through a small window, the tail end of the cool night air, breezes through the study shifting papers on a mahogany desk in the far corner. The music of crickets outside the window fills the room with a sense of peace. As she steps toward the book shelves the floorboard creaks underfoot, then a second later she hears the jostling of the bed frame and the clip-clop of Rogue toddling down the hallway to locate his girl.

He tracks her into the study, walks over to her for his morning head rub, then goes to lie down by the desk.

“Hmmm… what am I in the mood to read today?”she asks Rogue. He lets out a low whimper.

She glances over the shelves which contain every sort of book ranging from classics such as Pride and Prejudice to new favorites like The Mortal Instruments.

“I think… Interview with the Vampire sounds good,”she says as she removes it from the shelf.

“Come on Rogue, let’s go outside and read,”she says as she walks out of the door, Rogue trailing happily along. They walk down the stairs, and as they reach the parlor, Faith feels her stomach growl.

“Food, need food,”she says to no one particular.

“You wanna snack too?”she asks Rogue who immediately sits, wagging his tail energetically, waiting for something. She laughs, he has been trained well.

She goes into the kitchen and gets a small bag of chips and a soda for herself. Then gets under the sink, where she finds the dog treats and tosses one at Rogue who catches it like a pro.

“Ok, let’s go,”she says walking to the front door. The house is still and peaceful, like that of a tomb.

She walks onto the front porch where she sits down, legs outstretched, leaning against the house; Rogue snuggles comfortably in her lap flicking his tongue at the falling chip crumbs as she eats. The characters take on their own forms in her mind today as she reads, Louis does not look like the Louis she usually pictures, but the man she dreams of night and day of late.

As she continues to read, her breath begins to quicken just by picturing him as Louis- his tortured soul, his thirst for human blood. When she comes to a chapter where he is feeding, her heart begins to race.

_ He can bite me anytime! _ She smirks to herself.

She begins to picture herself lying on a couch and her dream guy is slowing plunging his fangs into her throat, sucking the life force from her body, she begins to sweat, and experience some tightening in her body when suddenly from behind her she hears

“What ya doin?”She gasps at the sudden voice and slams the book closed,

“Umm...I’m just reading,”she stutters.

“Are you sure that’s all you’re doing? You look really… nervous,”Mica chuckles.

“I’m fine; you just startled me thats all.”Faith puts down the book and runs her fingers through her hair, pulling it up into a ponytail.

“Anyway...I just wanted to know if you want to go to the rave with us tonight in Porter’s

field?”

“Us?”she asks.

“Yes us. You know, you’re friends-not just your colleagues as you college girls put it,”

Mica looks saddened, probably because he never thought he would have to remind her that she has friends let alone that he was one of them.

“I’m sorry Mic...I just haven’t been sleeping well...please forgive me,”she pouts her lips and gives him big puppy dog eyes. He tries not to melt like butter when he sees them, but he just can’t resist and has to smile.

“I’ll forgive you… IF!! You go with us.”She cocks her head to the side and pretends that she is thinking extremely hard, but she ends up bursting out in laughter.

“Of course, anything so you won’t be mad at lil ole me no more.”Mica smiles and rolls his eyes at her.

“You know you’re not as cute as you think,”he declares.

She smiles “Yes I am I’m  freakin adorable!”she blurts out. He just shakes his head and walks away. 

She continues to read for the rest of the day in the confines of her room, away from all distractions. When the sun begins to set she starts getting ready for the party and is determined to have a good time. For no reason would she let herself start thinking about anything to do with her sleep and the dreams.

_ Hmmmmm... What to wear? _

Finally after raiding her dresser-drawer, she decides on her daisy duke shorts, a pair of stylish cowboy boots, and a black tube top that ties like a corset in the back. After a little eye liner and taming her curly hair she is ready to go. She pats Rogue on the head, and then leaves the bedroom to meet her friends in front of the barn.

Mica is there leaning on his pickup truck, wearing his predictable blue jeans and a white tee shirt. Their friends from town are crowded around the truck; Mica is there in the center, laughing at something. Brian a short, blond man looks nervous, although he’s chuckling, an arm around Adelaide his red head girlfriend who has a very snooty attitude.

“Hey you ready to go?”he asks Faith as she walks up to the truck.

“Yeah, Hey guys, I missed ya,”she replies.

They all greet her with affection. August, a tall, gangly brunette whistles low at how awesome she looks? Mica glares at him for that gesture thinking, 

_ She’s not a piece of meat, Dammit!  _

Then everyone climbs in, Adelaide calls shotgun, so she can sit in the cab and gawk at Mica. Faith climbs in the bed with the rest. She hears laughter up front and then the gunning of the engine as they peel out of the driveway and down the road to the rave.

____________________________________________________________________

Dean is beginning to stir from his slumber he feels a little sluggish due to not feeding in days. He slowly gets up and walks to the bathroom, and gets in the shower, scalding water cascades down him in an attempt to wash away his residual human emotions.

Almost an hour passes when he gets out, dries off, then walks back into his bedroom to put on jeans, and a clean wife beater. He sits down on his bed and pulls on his biker boots.

_ Damn my thirst! _

He stands up and walks over to the door, grabs his leather jacket, and heads into town to grab a bite to eat before tracking.


	8. Chapter 7

~ Chapter 7 First Encounter~

They reach the party in the middle of a field on the edge of town. The night wind is cool and smells of alcohol. Trees surround the property casting shadows over the field, like ghosts, or ghouls lying on the ground. People are already drunk and making out all over the place. Mica jumps out of the truck as soon as it stops and gets into the cooler he brought, tossing out beers to his friends. 

Faith  sits on the tail gate and starts to sip from the bottle when her friend Marie,a girl the same height as Faith but with dirty blond hair and eyes the color of aquamarines, runs up to her with tons of glow sticks.

“Here have some,”she says as she passes them out among the group.

“Marie! I can’t believe you’re here! I thought you weren’t going to work this summer.”She says.

“It’s a surprise, I decided I couldn’t let yall have all the fun, especially since I never see you college girl,”Marie replies as she gives Faith a hug.

A bonfire stands in the middle of the party; Faith can see the D.J changing songs from the bed of a truck across the field. People are dancing-everywhere; the smell of too much cologne hangs in the air.

A few minutes pass and the D.J put on the song Kiss from a Rose from Seal thanks to an anonymous request from a certain male friend of Faith’s.

“Hey it’s my song,”yells Faith over the crowd. She jumps down from the truck and with her friends close behind, Faith and Marie start to dance in the middle of the field to the haunting melody. Mica leans against the truck sipping his beer staring at Faith. He is enticed by the way her body sways to the music. Her hips swaying slowly, side to side, arms above her head. Eyes closed soft…tranquil. His eyes follow her fluid movements.

“Hey what you staring at?”yells Marie.

“Nothing”Mica drops his gaze and starts talking to Max and Jake.  Marie notices all the men are staring at them dancing, lustful thoughts of awesome sex creeping into their minds.

“A-huh, sure...”Marie laughs; she knows exactly what he is staring at, and exactly what he’s thinking. Faith isn’t stupid, but Marie cannot understand why she doesn’t know that Mica holds a torch for her, and that torch is burning hotter by the minute.

Dean reaches town and immediately catches her scent, strong and vibrant. He forgets about his little snack and concentrates on the real hunt. He runs full speed until he reaches the opening between the trees. In front of him lies a massive field with what looks like a party going on. He

starts surveying the land searching for her, finally spots her. Behind her, thirty yards away, stands an old ramshackle barn. He darts across the field, a shadow, a breeze noticed by no one, and jumps onto its roof for a closer look, a point of attack.

He crouches, ready to strike. A breeze pulls her scent to him and it fills his lungs like sweet fire, making his body ache. He, too, notices her movements as graceful and agile as a feline. He wants to be down there with her, holding her soft body close to his, feeling the rhythm of the music entwine their souls. He growls, knowing he has to shut off that kind of foolish thinking.

_ I am the predator, she is the prey. _

He can kill her easily at this moment- who among them could stop him? - But he wants that moment of finesse rather than a swift movement into the strike. He debates but only for the briefest of seconds.

_ Should I let her see me before, perhaps torture her soul like she has been tormenting mine? _

He removes his jacket and lays it down on the roof. The wife beater showing off every single muscle he has. Before his muscles tense and he jumps down, he decides to look at her one last time, with a strange rise of hope just to watch her, but yet again she spoils his plans. At that exact moment she lifts her head to see the stars but catches his gaze.

“Oh my god!”she gasps. Marie hears the sharp sound and looks at Faith.

“What?”Marie asks concerned. Faith looks at her and Marie can see pain in her eyes.

“Na...Nothing.”She looks up again and he is gone. He has his hand over his heart, lying flat on the roof, just behind the ridge. It is beating so hard he is fearful it will burst.

“Come on spill the beans!”urges Marie. Faith simply looks at her with tear filled eyes.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,”

“I already know that I am. Join the club; tell me what is going on!”Marie persists. Faith motions for them to go over to the other side of the barn so they can talk without screaming over the music.

“Well ever since I was little I’ve been having these dreams… and there always the same, in every single one is this guy...it’s hard to explain.”She pauses feeling her mouth suddenly dry as the desert.

“A couple days ago I was giving a tour and I found a new picture on the stairwell. It was…”she hesitates. “The guy I’ve been dreaming about!”Faith explains with an excited grin on her face, leaning closer to Marie.

“WHAT? Are you sure it was … the same guy? I mean that’s kinda out there even for me”asks

Marie.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, and last night I dreamed he was in my bedroom and ...just a second ago I swear I saw him on the roof of this barn looking down at us!”

Marie studies her, her mouth hanging open. Nearby, within a demon's breath, Dean can hear her entire conversation and is intrigued by it. He wants to know what this Marie girl thinks. He also takes the time and glances at her neck,

_ Ahhh an appetizer perhaps. _

“One question?”Faith holds her breath…

“Is he hot?”asks Marie. Faith starts to laugh, while Dean bends closer, listening, waiting for her reply.

“Oh my god yes, he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever.....”Faith can’t even finish the sentence, swelling on the image in her mind. Marie grins, and then giggles, thinking,

_ Well that explains why she never notices that fine piece of ass that practically lives with her. _

Dean is astonished. He smiles a gesture he has not been able to do for hundreds of years. He peeks back over the barn and stares at Faith.

_ I have to know more about this girl. _

The girls keep giggling, when out of nowhere Mica joins them and asks Faith for a dance. Marie shoots him goo-goo eyes and leaves to find a dancing partner of her own. Mica steps behind Faith and wraps his arms around her waist. She closes her eyes and begins to feel the music draw her in. Mica can’t help but discretely breathe in the sweetness of her strawberry shampoo.

Dean watches. A type of fury begins to mount throughout his body. He once again takes the crouching position. His hands are melding into the steel roofing, gripping it so tightly. He hisses into the night wind, and yet the loud music prevents anyone from hearing his mournful cry.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a bit more, if anyone likes I will post more :)

~Chapter 8 Blood Cry~

       Suddenly the music is shut down and a boy cries out, “COPS!!!!!”Everyone scrambles to their vehicles to get away from the field. Dean loosens his grip on the barn roof and let’s himself start to breath normally. He watches Faith run for the truck and ever so gracefully jump into the back. He stands up and looks for the ascending policemen.

“Damn,”he mumbles.

_ If they hadn’t shown up, I would’ve eviscerated that kid. _

He grabs his jacket and leaps off the building, then starts to walk casually through the remnants of the rave. As he is putting his jacket on a policeman stops his car right in front of him.

“Sir, stop and put your hands on the top of your head,”he states.

“No, I don’t think I will,”he comments through gritted teeth. He is still furious from the party and is looking for a fight to relieve some of his tension. The officer slowly opens the car door, steps out and draws his gun, pointing it at Dean, “Sir, put your hands on top of your head.

Dean looks down and a large smirk spreads across his face.

“Fuck you.”he mutters.

Suddenly his head jerks up and the officer sees that his eyes are completely blackened out. Dean stares at the officer and a green fire -like- ring starts spreading from where his pupils used to be.

The officer tries to show no fear thinking it is just a new- age parlor trick, Dean turns in a circle making sure that all of the policemen see his eyes. One of the younger officers starts getting really antsy when he turns to him, letting out a groan.

“ Jesus Christ!”

     He accidentally shoots off a round into Dean, who looks down at the hole in his chest and laughs. He brings his eyes back to the astonished officer, and then in a blur sprints towards the cop. He grabs his arm and rips it off as though it was a perforated piece of paper, and then throws it at the other officers. A fierce round of shots follows. Dean stands unfazed over the cop lying at his feet writhing in agony. A kind of collective pandemonium breaks out, and they all scream and try to run for their cars. Dean is a shadow. One minute he is there the next they are getting their throats ripped out as if they were all gathered together, shoulder to shoulder instead of yards away from one another.

A few moments pass, and the only thing left is silence. Dean stands in the middle of the carnage breathing deeply as the blackness withdraws into his pupils. He is saturated in blood, its warm stickiness making his clothes cling to him like glue.

“Son of a bitch!! ... I loved that jacket!”He lets out a  sigh. _____________________________________________________________________________

Mica pulls into the break time a few miles down the road, everyone in the back of the truck is laughing like a bunch of hyaenas while his heart feels like it is going to beat right out of his chest. 

“Everyone ok?” he calls stepping out of the cab.

“yeah,” Brian  answers walking into the gas station. 

“It’s too early to go home,” Adelaide whines. 

“Totally!” screams Meghan. 

“Well what do yall wanna do?” asks Faith standing on the side of the truck trying to balance. She signals for Meghan to back Mica up so she can jump onto his back.

 ”Get up pony!” Faith calls wanting  a piggy back ride. 

“DRINK!” yells Meghan 

“Where and with what... anybody have booze?” asks Mica adjusting Faith on his back. 

They all look at each other waiting for an idea. 

“My mom’s outta town... we can party in the old barn at my house, nobody will be able to hear or see anything?” states Marie trying to be a little rebellious. 

“What about alcohol... everybody is either under age or broke?” reminds Mica. 

“I think me and Marie can  handle that.” Faith smiles

“And just how are you going to accomplish that,” questions August, squeezing through the beer window of the truck. 

“Thats for me to know and yall to find out,” giggles Faith, “ Mica let’s hit the Dixie stop.” 

“OooKay?” 

He agrees completely confused, putting her down. 

Faith pulls Marie over and whispers in her ear, she begins to laugh and follows her into the truck cab, making everyone else pile into the bed. 

When they pull into the parking lot at the Dixie stop Faith and Marie jump out signaling for everyone to stay out there. 

Faith hikes up the bottom of her daisy dukes a little bit higher, and adjusts her top. She smiles at her friends who cannot stop laughing. 

“Work what cha mommas gave ya!!!!!" yells Brian.

Faith smiles at him and flips her hair as they walk into the store.

Marie immediately heads over to where the small bottles are kept in the coolers; while Faith grabs a few bottles and goes over to distract the high school checkout boy, who can’t take his eyes off her boobs.  

“Hey Bobby,” she smiles leaning a bit onto the counter.

“Ha...hi Ms. Faith,” he stutters.

“I do believe you have grown into a man this the summer,” she bats her eyelashes and leans on the counter.. 

Outside Brian can see Faith’s leg popped up, wiggling her butt. Hysteria takes over and he can’t catch his breath because he is laughing so hard. 

”Re...really...you think so,” the checkout boy stutters. 

Faith nods, glancing over at Marie who is busy shoving a few tiny bottles of booze down her shirt. ”Oh I do,” she smiles. 

” Is this all you need?” he asks looking at the bottles. 

”Ahuh,” 

”I got to wait till shift change, I can‘t ring alcohol up,”

She made her face pouty,   “Please, I wont tell if you don‘t,” 

”I...I...don‘t know,” 

”Please... I‘ll owe you big time.” 

He gulped as she gently placed her hand on his arm. 

”Ooh.... Ok... if you promise not to tell anyone.” 

”Cross my heart and hope to die,” she chirps crossing her heart with her finger. 

He quickly rings up the booze and hands it to her.

”Marie! Come on” she calls, waiting for her to get out to the truck. 

”Thanks again hun, I‘ll see you later,” she winks and walks out to the truck swishing her hips. Once the truck doors were close, all hell breaks loose.

  As they pull up to the ancient barn, Marie begins digging around in her shirt pulling mini bottles out and piling them in the seat. 

“Hey you need help?” asks August more than happy to oblige. 

“Not yet cowboy,” she giggles running for the hay loft. 

A few minutes later a bronco pulls up and out steps a gothic looking, man with long hair wearing a black trench coat and shades.

“John Boy!!” squeals Faith  waving at her friend. 

“Midget!” he calls slowly walking towards the group. 

Up in the loft Adelaide is passing out shots, while Marie is mixing a strange concoction of all the mini bottles .

“I have an idea.” Proclaims Adelaide, “Let’s play truth or dare.” 

“Im in,” yells Marie.

“Me too,” calls Meghan staring at John.

“Hell.... why not,” Faith agrees downing a shot of whiskey. 

The guys stood, silent. 

“Hey! Cat got your tongue... yall in or not?”  yells Adelaide. 

“Like we have a choice...” answers Brian plopping down on a hay bale.

“Smart man,” jokes Marie lifting her shot of vodka in the air, toasting him. 

“OK I’m going first” squeals Adelaide standing up a bit too fast, staggering on her stilettos. 

She looks around the hay loft and quickly points to August.

“Auggie...Truth or Dare?” 

“DARE,” 

As she thinks, she can’t stop giggling.

“Ok... OK I got one...Auggie I dare you to... give a lap dance to Brian!” 

“WHAT!!!” 

“Shake your booty for Brian, A,” Faith laughs grabbing another shot.

“NO CHICKENS,” she adds watching August’s face grow redder by the second. 

He points at Adelaide, “ I Hate You!!” he jokes slowly dragging his feet towards Brian. 

He stand in front of him and attempts to sway his butt, not trying very hard when all of a sudden music begins blaring from outside, John had turned on the stereo in his car to help August get his groove on. 

“SHAKE IT BABY SHAKE IT!!!” yells Marie who runs over and playfully slaps August’s ass making him jump. 

He gets closer to Brian and wiggles, just praying for his dare to be over. 

“TAKE IT OFF!!” screams Meghan.

August rolls his eyes and start to take off his shirt when Brian pushes him away.

“Done! No more... Make it stop!!” Brian pleads chugging a glass of Marie’s  jungle juice. 

“Ok my turn, Marie truth or dare?” August asks plopping down in the hay. 

“Like you even  have to ask... Dare,” she states, an evil grin spreading across her face. 

He takes a sip, “I dare you to...streak around the barn” 

Her jaw dropped,  “Just kidding.. I’m not that mean,” he laughs.

“But I do dare you to flash for five seconds.” 

She smirks lifting her top for all to see. “Nothing I haven’t done at Mardi Gras... John truth or dare,” 

“Hold up...thats cheating. an undershirt isn’t flashing!” Whines August,

“Whoops,” Marie laughs, denying the boys of chance to see what they desire. 

Faith notices the whiskey not getting any lower.“

Screw shots,” she mumbles, grabbing the bottle and begins to chug as John

slams a Jager bomb, leaving the loft to build a bon-fire in the yard below.  

   Marie looks at Mica who is now sitting against the loft door, toasting everything that people say with his empty bottle of beer. 

“Mica!” she screams.“Yup,” he smiles, lifting his bottle to toast her.

“Truth or Dare?” 

“Ummm...truth,” he slurs.

“What would you say to your crush if she was here?”

“OR HE!!” chirps Brian.

Mica is speechless, staring absentmindedly at Faith who is laying on the floor a few feet away, her legs dangling out of the loft. “Earth to Mica! You in there,” Brian yells in his ear.

“Ummm...” he tries to recover, “Dare... I meant dare,” 

Adelaide hands him another bottle of beer, “ I dare you to... kiss ....” she looks around for the most interesting choice. “Faith!” 

“What ? Somebody say my name?” Chirps Faith arching her back to look behind her.

“I dared Mica to kiss you,” snorts Adelaide. 

By now the room is beginning to lean on Mica as he crawls over to Faith, they look at each other but before Faith is ready, Mica plants one on her. The rancid smell of beer and vodka on his breathe makes her queasy, she bolts for the field unable to control her gag reflex, leaving him there thinking he was a horrific kisser.  

         John, waiting for the fire to really get going,  cranks up his stereo and sits down on one of the logs surrounding the fire pit. Faith, trying to calm her stomach,  relaxes next to him as the nip of wind brushes her creating goosebumps. 

  Suddenly they hear a shriek from the hay loft, 

“THERE’S A CRITTER IN HERE..... ITS GOING TO GET ME,” screams Marie. August runs to her rescue. 

After five minutes of silence Faith yells up at the loft, “Yall dead?” 

“Yes!” Marie hollers back a bit breathless.

“Get your asses down here, you're missing a perfectly good fire.” Calls John impatiently. 

One by one they take their places around the fire. Lastly August, followed by Marie stumble down the stairs. 

“Hey A, I don’t think thats your color,” teases Faith, noticing the bright lipstick all over his face. 

Faith stands up and nods to Meghan, letting her sit next to John. She walks over to Marie and drags her onto one of  the other logs, keeping her from any further embarrassment . 

“So A, what kind of critter was gonna get Marie.” Mica asks.

“A possum,” he answers.

“You sure it wasn’t a snake.” Faith pokes, sending Brian into a fit of hysteria. Marie’s face reddens as the familiar sound of her cell phones goes off. She looks down…  **MOM** . 

“SHIT… Everyone shut the fuck up its my mom!!” She screams at the group. 

“Hello...Oh hi mom, I’m fine just watching some TV.” 

The whole group snickers, whispering ignorant comments just low enough for Marie to hear but not her mom. 

“No, ma’am I haven’t…..I won’t….I promise I won’t invite any of them over while you're away….bye.”

“Who won’t you invite over?” asks Meghan,

“According to my mom, the bad influences from the city… so you know you idiots.” She laughs abruptly sobered.  

The party goes on for a bit longer while the drivers sobered up. Then one by one they piled into the truck to be dropped off so they can catch some sleep before morning. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

He is already in a killing frenzy, why not take out his main target while he’s at it? He runs, now. A reawakened intent, a purpose driving him faster and faster. The guests are asleep, now. A single hall light throws a dusty yellow glow through the front windows. No light from her bedroom. So he leaps to the tree outside her room, as quiet and graceful as a breath of wind, then again to the roof and swings into her bedroom. He comes out of his crouched position and walks to the side of her bed. He is willing himself not to take a single breath or admire her

beauty. He takes his hand and moves her head to the right. As he is doing this he feels the silky texture of her porcelain-like skin, and a shudder runs through his body. He lifts his head up and his fangs emerge. His heartbeat quickens, and he is forced to take the unwanted breath.

He looks down and brushes her cheek, and then he moves his hand slowly downward onto her throat. He traces her veins with his fingertip. As he does this a small gasp escapes her lips. He lowers himself to one knee and continues to trace his fingers down her arm. She slowly rolls toward him, still unconscious. He holds her hand palm up in his, while his other hand traces all of her fingers and every line on her palm.

Finally he can stand no more and with fangs still elongated he ever so gently moves her palm to his mouth and kisses it. After a few minutes have passed he retracts his fangs and just kneels there holding her hand trembling slightly at her unexplainable draw on his mind. She appears to be having an unpleasant dream, and so he takes his hand and gently moves the hair on her brow out of her face. He leans up and kisses her forehead lightly. After this small act she appears to quiet down inside that world of sleep she inhabits. Soon the sun would be rising so very reluctantly he leaves and returns to the safety of his sanctuary defeated by the mystery of the woman he has sworn himself to kill. All the while Faith is stuck in the confines of her mind. She is back in the dark ages and as always she is no longer Faith, but someone she only knows deep within in her soul.


End file.
